The Mop Debate

Why do I not get my hair cut? It is a question often asked of myself, by myself and others, and as it is an issue whose already-limited thinking time allocation is constantly interrupted by matters of love, life, death and Manchester United, it surely must be put into 12pt Arial (or the present font, whatever that is) to be even touched upon. Is it a statement? Could it be apathy turned opportunistically into a statement on the homogenisation of society, or, subconsciously, apathy acting as a protest in itself: against the instigation (by Government or otherwise) of a culture that encourages the vastly disproportionate efforts and expenditure lavished by ordinary folk on creation of a ‘hairstyle’, undoubtedly to divert attention from all manner of corruption and inequality that we should be worrying about. Is it me trying to show a dismissive and shallow world that I have hidden depths by rejecting follicular ostentation, and if so am I missing the point because the people I am aiming to impress this upon have turned into vain, insular dolts by virtue of their high-maintenance hairdo? Or am I simply trying to provide shelter for the fast-declining House Sparrow? I often joke that I “should make the best of it while it’s still there”, a reference in part to a double crown which has made me look balding since infant times, but what if my reluctance to part with my parting is aprt of a deeper-seated fear of ageing, possibly linked to moments when I find myself at Twenty-Six in a dead-end school-leaver’s job job writing verbose prose about inane shit when I should be photocopying…..